The Assignment
by saberdark
Summary: Vincent's last job before he visits L.A.
1. Chapter 1

**The Assignment**

Chapter One

January 18th, 2004

8:39pm

As the bullet-casing clinked onto the floor and the flash from the muzzle of his integral silenced Heckler and Koch USP cleared, Vincent quickly holstered his weapon and left the apartment. He was sure not to make direct eye contact with anyone as he exited the building, as well as not to take his eye off of them either. As he trudged down the staircase, he quickly put on his Silhouette 8586 sunglasses and opened the freight door leading to the parking lot. Once there, he crawled back into the taxi cab he came with.

"Things went a little longer than I expected. I'll be sure to tip." He assured the cabbie with the most decent of smiles.

"How was your friend?" Asked the driver.

Vincent cleared his throat, "He wasn't home. 2710 Betteridge."

As he sat in the back of the cab he could feel what the recoil of the pistol had done to his hands and was thinking of soon retiring. He zoned in and out of reality, but not at the expense of the moment and continued to watch the driver and his surroundings carefully. Vincent thought of the apartment he just left and how he's never seen anyone beg for their life quite like that before, and for a second he thought of letting him walk. _It was business_, Vincent thought to himself, and he handled it in the most respectable fashion. Before he could really dwell into his thoughts he had arrived to his second and final hit, the bright evening had finally settled and it was night. This was good for him, he found it easier to move around in the dark. The counter said $56.75 but Vincent handed the cabbie a hundred.

"Your tip. Have a nice night." Vincent said has he handed the driver his fare and abruptly left the car.

"You know, I can stay a while if you're coming right back!" the driver called after him, but Vincent was already gone.

Vincent didn't have to do his homework, the FBI official who hired him was doing this one off the books and off the record. Having recieved his work-ups from the co-director of Internal Affairs in the FBI, Vincent knew the information to be as accurate to the targets as anyone could get. When he first received his dossier on the targets Vincent sternly wanted to turn it down because of who they were and who the client was. The client was one Terrance McCall, the FBI co-director of Internal Affairs in the Bureau. The targets were both members of the FBI who were on the take, accepting bribes and often dealing with the local mafia in Florida in prostitution rings, money laundering, and drugs. McCall did not have the evidence to get them convicted, and so after failed attempts in the courts he contacted a private sector agency, to which Vincent belonged, as his last resort to end ties to the mafia. What worried Vincent the most was that the men that he was hired to kill were trained to kill as well, which was also the reason he accepted it.

Vincent made his way through the lobby quickly, but not frantically. He decided to take the private elevator up, so as not to arouse suspicion with the building security personnel. The mahagony doors of the elevator opened up before he could press the "call" button, and two men were standing inside almost as if waiting. They were both large men, and if he had to take a guess he would say that these two were hired muscle. The man who would be behind Vincent on his right wore sunglasses, the one on his left had a mole on his cheek. They were both stern and had intimidating faces.

Vincent quickly had a look at the walls of the elevator noticing that they were not the standard of being made up of mirrors and reflective steel, so in any case he had to walk in - otherwise it might blow his cover. He stood there and pressed the button for the 17th floor instead of the 12th. He removed his Silhouette 8586s and placed it in his interior right side breast pocket, where he gripped his extendable baton as he felt a hand touch his left hip-- where his butterfly knife was holstered. Vincent quickly extended his baton and crashed the steel against the man standing on his left's jaw, he then threw his right elbow into the other man's face breaking his nose along with his sunglasses.

"Ah! You fucking broke my nose!" screeled the victim as he covered his bludgeoned nose, just before he noticed his partner unconscious with a dislocated jaw.

He withdrew from them and hit the "stop" button on the switchboard. Standing over them like a grey wolf to his prey, Vincent had already put away his baton and was now holding his silenced pistol. He held his weapon in the firing position and shot off six rounds, two to the sternum and one to the head in each of his combatants. He quickly looked around thinking of how to dispose of the bodies and found the emergency exit door in the floor of the elevator. He disabled the simple alarm system on the door and it dropped open, he dragged both corpses to the door with great frustration and strength only to let them drop through the bottom of the elevator and into the shaft. The thud of the bodies making their impact at the bottom didn't seem so loud to Vincent, he resumed taking the elevator to the next floor but not before dropping the bullet-casings of the fired rounds into the shaft as well. Once the doors opened he left the elevator in a hasty fashion and made his way to the staircase.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Assignment**

Chapter Two

January 18th, 2004

7:56pm

It seemed to be a relatively short flight for him seeing as he spent most of the time asleep on the plane. When he arrived at TPA it was almost eight o'clock in the evening and he was already due to start almost immediately. Firstly however, he had to take a trip to the men's restroom to take care of some business. He entered the men's room and made his way to the sink where he washed his face and massaged the water through his unkempt grey stubble of facial hair. The premature grey hair was settling on his face now as it already had on his scalp. It was the job, it took its toll and often made those in his field look older than they really were. Vincent was feeling a little stiff after the flight and so he adjusted his neck by jerking it in various positions. A man came to the sink at his side and placed his briefcase on the floor inbetween the both of them.

"Here on business, mate?" he said in a gruff english accent as he washed his hands.

"Just for a while."

"Take your time, see the city a bit perhaps." he said as he rubbed the bristles on his near bald head.

" I don't think I'll stay longer than I have to."

"Well, enjoy." said the englishman as he walked away leaving his briefcase behind.

Vincent picked up the englishman's briefcase and walked into a toilet stall. He slid the bolt-lock shut and sat down on the toilet. There between his feet in the briefcase was an arsenal that would get him through the night. In the briefcase he found a butterfly knife, a HK USP intergral silenced pistol - - both accompanied by holsters, fibre wire, a palm pilot containing his targets' information, keycards to the targets' homes, an extendable aluminum steel baton, and ammunition clips for his pistol. As he left the washroom he ditched the briefcase in the garbage can, and continued on through the airport until he reached the pick-up zone filled with a wide selection of cabs. He adjusted his Silhouette 8586 sunglasses and moved to find a a cabbie who spoke solid english.

"Is this cab available or is it taken?"

"You come, hop in." said the Vietnamese driver.

As Vincent tucked his head into the cab and sat down, he immediately noticed the camera attached to the rear view mirror and quickly got out. He looked around for the "Yellow Cab Service & Co." decal on the sides of any of the cabs and quickly he found one. Vincent always seemed to trust this cab service the most, they didn't have cameras inside the vehicles. As he moved, it seemed almost as if he glided on air over everyone else's presence, and yet he was perfectly capable of blending in with his surroundings and not sticking out like a sore thumb.

"Hi, are you available?" Vincent said with an uncanny politeness.

"Yeah, sure. Take a seat. Where to?" replied the cabbie.

" 583 Secord avenue." Vincent said as he tucked away his palm pilot.

"No problem, you come around Florida often?"

"Not really. I'm not too fond of the south. It's too interwined, too close or tight-knit."

" I know what you mean, this fucking place can give you a heart attack sometimes. What can I say? It's Miami."

" How long do you think it'll take to get there?"

"Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, it depends on traffic."

"Thanks."

"Seeing some friends or family?"

"Visiting _a _friend."

"You know, I'm not from around here. I grew up in New York. I thought I'd come down here for the fresh air. That's hurricane season for ya."

"Hey", Vincent leaned forward, "I have the right to a silent ride, is that correct?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, I'd appreciate it very much. I'm tired from the flight. You know, jet lag." Vincent smiled politely.

"Yeah, that's okay. sure. Jet lag. Yeah, I get that sometimes."

"Thanks."

As the car accelerated along, Vincent was making sure that his laces were tied, his belt was buckled, his gun was holstered, his knife was holstered, just to make sure that there wasn't going to be any trip-ups. However, in the event that a trip-up was made, he'd be sure to roll with it, maybe try to make it work to his advantage. The cabbie didn't have the slightest clue, he thought Vincent was just fidgetting from his flight and thought nothing of it.

The cab pulled up to an expensive looking condo in the downtown corridor. This meant that there would be building security, and quite a few people walking in and out through the lobby and foyer areas.

"Wait here, I'll be right back." Vincent said to the cabbie as he removed his sunglasses.

"How long you gonna be?"

"I'll be back in about 5 minutes."

"I gotta pick up another fare!"

"No you don't." Vincent said as he disappeared into the building.

He looked at his watch, the time was eight-twenty-two. As he walked through the front doors into the lobby, security almost completely did not noticehim and he smiled politely to tenants walking through the lobby. When he reached the terminal he took one of the keycards and swiped it but nothing happened, so he switched to another and yet nothing happened again. _Shit, open up,_ Vincent thought to himself. Finally, a woman opened the door to come out, and held it open for Vincent. He thanked her as she passed him by with a seductive smile and slipped in.

Vincent took the elevator up. He had his hand on his hip ready at any moment in case his target had any hired muscle or security. The doors swung open at the third floor, Vincent quickly had his hand gripping his HK USP, sweat was trickling down the palm of his hands, he was ready for the little white haired woman walking her dog to step into the elevator. He chuckled, somewhat unnerved. The little old lady smiled at him and she smiled right back at her before he stepped off the elevator.

Vincent decided to take the staircase up to the fourth floor, because it made sense. If they were expecting him, they'd wait by the elevators expecting him to take the elevators non-chalantly as if all was normal. As Vincent opened the door the the staircase he came face to face with an armed guard, he quickly drew out his silenced pistol and put two in his head. At the top of the staircase another guard saw the muzzle flashes and started to open fire with his MP5 Sub-Machinegun. Vincent dropped to his knees in a firing position and shot two rounds to the sternum and two to the head. The cover that Vincent tried hard to maintain was gone, he shot up the staircase and kicked open the door to the fourth floor. He saw his target opening his frontdoor and peeking his head out, Vincent shot off a round, but missed. It was just to scare him back inside. Vincent walked to the frontdoor and kicked it open. His target FBI agent grabbed for his service weapon, and Vincent slipped on something and shot rounds to his target's wrist, and both of his legs. Vincent got up and dusted off his knee, and strolled towards his target who was bleeding out a whole ocean of blood.

"Please, whatever they're paying you - I can make it double !" The FBI agent said as Vincent heard a tapping coming from another room.

"What is that? Is someone else here?" Vincent said as he pointed the gun at the agent's head.

"Do you know how I am? Don't you know anything about me? I have kids, my name is James Astrono! Please, don't hurt them! Dont kill me! I'm begging you !"

A door opened up just a peek and Vincent, on instinct, pointed his gun at the door where two little bright eyed girls were standing in their pajamas.

"Please, I have kids, you fucking animal ! Don't you have a fucking heart! Don't do it in front of them, please, oh god. Don't kill me, I'm all they got, plea - -" Vincent silenced him with a round to the head.

As the bullet-casing clinked onto the floor and the flash from the muzzle of his integral silenced Heckler and Koch USP cleared, Vincent quickly holstered his weapon and left the apartment. He was sure not to make direct eye contact with anyone as he exited the building, as well as not to take his eye off of them either. As he trudged down the staircase, he quickly put on his Silhouette 8586 sunglasses and opened the freight door leading to the parking lot. Once there, he crawled back into the taxi cab he came with.

"Things went a little longer than I expected. I'll be sure to tip." He assured the cabbie with the most decent of smiles.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Assignment**

Chapter Three

January 18th, 2004

9:27pm

He moved up the staircase at a quick pace, hopping over steps three at a time as he reloaded his weapon. _This is just a minor setback. "Murphy's law, whatever can go wrong, will go wrong." I've got a handle on it. _Vincent thought to himself as he reached the seventeenth floor almost out of breath. He adjusted his elbow, which was now bruised from sending it into the nose of his encounter in the elevator.

Vincent exhaled and opened the door leading into the seventeenth floor hallway slightly. When the door opened a crack he saw a shadow on the floor and a shoulder looking at him in the face. He quickly found that the shadow was armed, meaning it was a guard. He had to be quick to disabled his armed opponent. He wedged his foot in the door and removed his fibre-wire to which he extended the two grip-guards to reveal the glistening and deadly cord. As fast as he could, Vincent kicked the door open with his wedged foot and wrapped the cord around the guard's neck and dragged him into the stairwell. There, Vincent broke the guard's neck almost without a fight or second thought. He checked the guard's pulse to make sure it was a confirmed kill, and then moved on into the hallway.

He continued down the hallway with absolutely no stealth, he had his USP in his hand and was ready for anything. After the first hit, Vincent was concerned that this was not the challenge he thought it was going to be. He made sure that the integral silencer was in top condition and was not going to fail him, not at this point when he was so close.

His heart started to beat somewhat rapidly when he thought of facing possible resistance from his target. He used to feel his heart sink before going into combat, but he hadn't felt like this since he was in Special Forces.

As he came around the bend in the hallway he saw an armed guard walking patrol with his back to him. Vincent holstered his gun and pounced almost immediately as he kicked the guard's knee from behind, sending him crashing to the floor. Vincent stood his torso upward as he grabbed his chin with his left hand and the top of his skull with his right. Vincent snapped his neck quickly and left the limp body in the middle of the hallway as he continued moving on like no one else had been in the hallway but him and him alone.

Vincent reached the penthouse doors and drew out his silenced pistol. The doors, you'd think, would weigh a ton but they didn't. They were large in size but were as hollow as a wall in an unfinished basement. He pressed his foot against one of the large doors and turned the knob. The door swung open, only to reveal a man in a suit sitting down reaching for his gun as he saw Vincent with utter shock on his face. Vincent squeezed the trigger three times and put an end to the guard's movement. Someone was standing behind the door as Vincent felt someone push the door against him trying to knock him down, the strength from the other side over-powered Vincent's so he shot four rounds through the door. Lying on the floor was another guard gasping at the sight of his wound from the bullet lodged in his ribcage and a Glock 19 within reaching distance of his hands. A round was quickly put into his head to silence his breath along with one in his chest.

Vincent now stood in front of the doors leading into the expensive penthouse condo, he held his weapon at the ready. He opened the door and was in the room in under a second with his gun drawn straight in front of him. He was going to start clearing and securing rooms but something else caught his eye. Standing in the kitchen in front of him was a girl, no more than eight or nine, standing stark naked in front of him. She had ejaculate dripping from her lips and was quivering with tears in her eyes.

This never happened to Vincent before, but he froze without a thought about the world surrounding him. He couldn't decide whether to put his jacket around her or just ignore her presence as she stood in the kitchen. But she was just a child, like he once was. He holstered his gun, removed his jacket and started to make his way to the girl. As he did this, logic broke through in his head and he realized that someone just finished in her mouth no more than a few moments ago – meaning someone must still be in the apartment.

He shuffled his shoulder to put his jacket back on and placed his hand on his weapon, however a blunt object hit him in the back of his head and he dropped to the floor. Just before his eyes could fully close Vincent heard a dissonant scream.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Assignment**

Chapter Four

January 18th, 2004

9:42pm

He came around almost immediately after hearing the pitter-patter of feet running on the tiled floors, and tried squinting his eyes to focus them. He felt around the back of his head, where he was hit, only to find a minor bump. He felt his hip to see if his gun had been taken, but it was still there. He drew out his USP, stood up and looked behind him where he saw a man in a bathrobe running with the little girl. Vincent took chase after them, huffing and panting as he was still recovering from the hit he took. He clenched his teeth so hard that it felt like they were going to break in his mouth.

The man, who Vincent presumed was his target; Carmine Carravagio, quickly took the girl into the private elevator. As the doors struggled to close between them and Vincent, who was still at a very bad shooting- distance, it became clear that Vincent was facing his target with the disability of not being able to shoot. Vincent kept his eyes on the little girl as if she were his motivation. She squealed louder as Carmine cocked a Glock 17, that he picked up from a guard, and pointed it to her head, by then the doors had finally closed and Vincent heard a gunshot.

As Vincent continued running towards the elevator he holstered his weapon and grabbed an emergency fire-axe from a glass case. He wedged it into the slit between the two elevator doors and pried them open, he looked into the elevator shaft and grabbed onto one of the support cables for the elevator. As he pushed off of the floor and rode the elevator cable down, he did his best not to slide down the cable otherwise it would slice and cut up his hands. He started to climb down the cable however, hand under hand. _If being in the Special Forces were to pay off, now would be it. _He thought to himself while grunting down the cable.

As he jumped down and his feet touched the roof of the elevator, Vincent quickly stood to the side as Carraviago shot through the ceiling. Without skipping a beat, Vincent returned fire just as blindly and when the elevator came to a halt, he kicked in the roof and landed on top of a little corpse.

She had no expression on her face and was as cold looking as a porcelain doll. Her eyes kind of frozen open, with the damp tears still trickling down her cheeks as fresh as when they first came out. He exhaled and exited the elevator. He removed his grey tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt as he moved towards the lobby doors where Carravagio could be seen outside talking to a valet attendant.

"Excuse me, sir? Sir!" said a security officer standing behind a desk, "I'm going to have to ask you to put the gun down."

Vincent didn't realize that he still had his gun in his hand, or that he lost his silencer. _Wake up. This is it. You're in the moment. So be in the moment. Let's roll with it. Go. _Vincent thought to himself as he continued towards the exit, not stopping for anyone.

"I'm going to have to draw my weapon on you! Sir, put the gun dow - - " Vincent quickly shot two rounds into the security officer's chest and continued through the doors where Carravagio clearly saw him and snatched his car key from the attendant. Vincent ran through the doors and gave chase once again, he ran past the valet attendant who ducked and ran for cover.

Carravagio was way ahead of Vincent and turned into 'Row B' of the parking garage, where there were nothing but Mercedes, BMWs, Lexus, and Hummers. As Vincent had his weapon at the ready and turned the corner, he lost him. Water could be heard dripping from the ceiling and into a large puddle. Vincent looked around but saw no movement, _This is the last row on this level, he's in here. _He looked around carefully; his eyes were shifting quickly but also steadily. He rubbed the sweat off of his forehead with the sleeve from his grey suit jacket. He exhaled. Slowly and cautiously, Vincent moved in between the cars where he holstered his weapon and got down in a push-up position.

An engine turned over, with heavy and hard acceleration. Vincent stood up and got back into the driveway of the garage with his pistol drawn. Tires squealed and before him Vincent saw a Mercedes turnout of a parking space amidst all of the vehicles and come towards him. In under a second he raised his pistol and shot at the engine block of the vehicle to no avail. He switched over to the driver's side of the windshield and unloaded the remaining rounds of his HK USP. Vincent dove out of the trail of the moving vehicle and quickly reloaded to shoot out both taillights and the left back tire.

Even though it was hopeless, it was not. _There's no good reason, there's no bad reason, to live or die. _Vincent holstered his weapon and chased the Mercedes out of the garage, and into the street, somewhat hopelessly. To Vincent's amazement, he saw his cabbie from earlier still parked up on the side of the building; he quickly made his way into the cab only to find a married couple just getting in.

"Hey, uh, - - " Vincent said almost out of breath.

"Tom" replied the driver.

"Tom thanks. I need you to follow that car, right there." He exhaled.

"The Merc with the broke taillights? Holy shit, it's shooting out sparks from the tires!"

"Tom! Now, please."

"Excuse me! " said a woman who was about sixty years of age and just getting into the cab with her husband holding the door. "We were here first now, young man. So if you like, you can wait for another cab, I'm sure the driver can call for you."

"Miss" Vincent said, as she took notice of the gun in his hand. "Get the fuck out of the cab."

She flinched back in horror and into her appalled husband's arms. Vincent quickly pulled their door in and shut it, and Tom the driver took to the road like a thunderbolt.

" Um, sir?"

" It's Vincent, Tom. And yeah?"

"Vincent, um, sir, it's not my job to question what you do, but I was wondering if you could put that away." Tom referred to Vincent's pistol.

"Yeah - - no. I need it."

"It's making me nervous."

"Breathe, focus on that car in front of you, you can't afford to lose it."

"And if I do." Said Tom breathing rhythmically.

"I'll kill you, still breathing?"

"Mmm-hmmm…" Tom moaned unevenly.

"I'm with the director's of IAD in the bureau, do you know what that means?"

"No."

"Watch the traffic. That means that I'm FBI and right now I'm tracking down a known suspect terrorist. Can you understand? Keeping breathing."

"So you're FBI?"

"Precisely. You're helping out your country, Tom. Don't forget that. It's a civic duty that you're holding for your fellow man."

"Thank you." Tom said between uneven breaths.

"No one can know of this. No one. Hey, you listening?"

"Yeah, no one." Tom mumbled unconvincingly.

_He'll talk._

"Right, don't stop the car too close to him, pull in here."

The Mercedes stopped at a club called 'Luciano's No. 4' and Carravagio ran straight in with security helping him in along the way. Vincent got out of the cab halfway; he took out his fibre-wire and sat back down.

" Tom, there's no reason, good or bad, to live or die. Do you understand?"

"No, not really."

"It's a principle. You'll talk I can see it in you where you sit, I can see it in your eyes"

"I won't, I said I wouldn't!" Tom said as he tried to close the slide-able glass divider between him and Vincent.

"You can't even convince yourself, Tom."

Vincent shoved his hands through the divider to stop it from closing and wrapped the fibre-wire around Tom's fat neck, where Vincent thought that the girth of Tom's neck might break the wire. But it did its job, and so did Vincent. He couldn't afford to leave a breathing witness. He put away the wire, closed the glass divider and got out of the cab where he glanced at the club. There, standing before Vincent was a task that was all the challenge that he had been looking for.


End file.
